


Of Coveralls and Penguin Suits

by SelenaTerna



Series: Time Petals Prompt Fics [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Human AU, Pining, Romance, because fluffy, mainly fluff, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaTerna/pseuds/SelenaTerna
Summary: Rose had noticed him straightaway but she had no idea he'd noticed her, too.





	1. Mind if I sit down?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people! This is my attempt at the Time Petals weekly ficlet prompt 'mechanic AU' on tumblr. Of course, as usually seems to happen with me, this turned out waaaaaay longer than I expected, so this is only chapter 1 of 2. Second chapter likely to go up tomorrow.
> 
> This is actually my first human AU so I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing and I can only hope this turned out OK. 
> 
> FYI, the Nine I imagined for this story is CE as he appeared in Top Gear back in 2005. Link is here for all who are interested. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cy-9U0S08WY 
> 
> And now, on with the show!

He usually came in just after noon.

In fact, he’d been coming to the grubby little takeaway where she had lunch for over a month now, and he _always_ came in just after noon. Sometimes he’d sit and eat, and other times he’d take his sandwich and go, striding off on those impossibly long legs of his. 

But he always came in at the same time. That was the very first thing that Rose had noticed about her mystery man, and today was no exception: five past twelve on the nose and there he was.

She tried not to stare as he loped into the grubby takeaway she favoured (because of course the second thing she’d noticed was that he moved with a feline, prowling sort of grace that made it very hard to stop staring and pay attention to her lunch).

He was in jeans, today. Sometimes he’d be wearing a mechanic’s coveralls and sometimes he was in jeans, jumper and a battered old leather jacket. She didn’t care either way.

He looked  _really_  fit in the jeans, she couldn’t help but notice. She noticed _everything_ about him.

That was the odd thing, really. He wasn’t conventionally handsome; he certainly wasn’t what anyone would call pretty, what with his too large ears and his aquiline nose, but put together with his gorgeous blue eyes, his too-tempting lips and his lean, strong frame, he was drop dead gorgeous. His scruffy, short beard added to his rugged appeal and she found it _very_ hard to keep her eyes to herself.

“Hiya,” he greeted the cashier. “Just the usual, thanks.”

He was a Manc; that was the third thing she’d noticed, and she loved the way ordinary words sounded almost musical, coming from him.

She surreptitiously watched from the corner of her eye as he paid before she forced herself to turn her attention back to her half-eaten chips. No matter how fit the bloke was, she had no business eyeing him up like a Sunday roast. Looking like that, he had to be taken, and besides, he had to have a good ten years on her at least. Blokes like him were always taken and even if he wasn’t, she doubted he’d be interested in a shop girl from Peckham.

She’d do better to finish her chips and get back to work.

Just after she'd shoved another chip in her mouth, she heard him speak again.

To _her_.

 “’Scuse me, but would you mind? Place isn’t half-crowded today.”

Well wasn’t that just fantastic? The first time he ever spoke to her, she had a gob full of chips.

 Blushing, she waved her hand at the seat across the table and chewed furiously.

“Go ahead,” she mumbled as soon as she’d swallowed.

 “Thanks very much.” He slid into the chair and held out his hand. “I’m John, by the way. John Noble. What’s your name?”

“Rose,” she mumbled, slipping her hand into his and trying not to shudder at the contact. “Rose Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you Rose,” he grinned, shaking her hand.

She tried not to notice that he had the daftest, most beautiful grin she’d ever seen.

She also tried to not notice just how _piercing_ his gorgeous blue eyes were; she was almost certain they could see right into her.

Thankfully were interrupted by Gladys with John’s sandwich and Rose expected that he’d finished being polite and would turn to his lunch. To her surprise, as soon as Gladys was gone, John turned back to her.

“D’you work nearby then, Rose? Seen you here a bit, me.”

He’d seen her? He’d actually _noticed_?

“Yeah.” She looked down at her chips. “At Henrik’s.” She winced internally, half-expecting him to back off or look down on her in some way. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. Adam had certainly made sure to remind her of her lowly shopgirl status daily for the entire two months they’d dated. 

Instead, John nodded and asked her how she liked it, acting as though he were actually interested in what she had to say as he ate his sandwich.

She was too afraid to ask what he did for a living (and anyway, it was fairly obvious from the mechanic’s coveralls) but she did learn that he worked nearby. “Couple of blocks away,” he said.

 She also learned that he’d moved to London from Manchester two months ago, and that his sister lived in London with her fiancé.

They chatted away until Rose realised that her break was almost over and she’d better get back to work.

“Guess I’ll see you ‘round?” he said as she stood and picked up her bag.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I’ll see you.”

+++++++++++

And so began their lunchtime tradition of having lunch together. On the odd occasion, John had to take his sandwich and run back to work, but he always made it a point to greet her and ask how she was before he left. Sometimes, she was late to lunch, especially on stocktake days, and she’d only have time for a quick bite, but she’d find John waiting at ‘their’ table with a fresh basket of chips or a sandwich and drink, knowing her break would be short that day.

A month passed and she slowly got to know more about this mysterious man. She learned that his half-sister Donna was his only living family, and that he’d moved here from Manchester for work. She learned that he loved working with his hands the most, and that he loathed paperwork. She assumed that he likely owned his own garage (hence the paperwork), but didn’t like to ask, since she never volunteered anything about her own job (in fact, they never really spoke about their occupations at all, after that first day, because really, there were much more interesting things to talk about). She learned he was clever, and seemed to know something about everything, but that he never looked down on her when she admitted she didn’t know something. She also learned he’d travelled a _lot_ , and she listened to each and every story he told her, fascinated. 

In turn, she told him that her dad had died when she was a baby, and that her mum had recently married Howard from the fruit shop, leaving Rose the little flat she’d grown up in for her very own. She told him that she’d wanted to be an artist when she was young but that it hadn’t worked out (there was no way she was telling him she’d dropped out of school for the likes of Jimmy Stone). She told him about her mate Mickey, who had just gotten engaged to a doctor by the name of Martha, whom Rose liked a lot. And she told him she dreamed of travelling the world, but didn’t think she’d ever get to do it. He listened to her and challenged her as no one ever had before, and she loved it.

Their lunches became the high point of her day and she looked forward to them more than anything. To her dismay, however, her intense attraction to him didn’t diminish over time- if anything, it seemed to grow more and more intense as time went on. She was very careful to keep her feelings to herself, unwilling to risk her friendship with this strange, enigmatical, wonderful man, for the sake of a silly crush which would never be requited.

John was fun and silly and kind and _brilliant_ but he’d never given any indication that he was interested in anything more than friendship and Rose valued him far too much to take the risk.

And so it went on.

+++++++++++

Three months after they’d met, on a rainy Tuesday morning the week before Easter, Rose was manning her counter and busily folding jumpers when she was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing politely behind her.

She turned and started at the sight of a _very_ familiar face. 

“John!”

He gave her a cheeky little wave. “Hello!”

“Daft git.” She grinned and stepped forward to give him a quick hug. “What you doin’ here?”

He shifted awkwardly in his leather jacket. “Well, you know Donna’s gettin’ married next month.” Rose nodded and he continued, crossing his arms.  
“Well, she said if I turned up in me leather jacket she’d burn it.” He scowled. “Haven’t got anything else. Haven’t worn a penguin suit in years, me.”

She stifled a giggle at his outraged expression. “Well you’ve come to the right place. C’mon you, formalwear’s the next department.”

She let the other girl on duty know to watch the counter, and escorted John to formalwear, waving her hand at the far wall, where the tuxedos (or penguin suits, as he called them) and formal suits hung. “I’ll get one of the girls to help you.”

“Can’t you do it?” If Rose didn’t know better, she’d say he looked disappointed.

She flushed. “Well, yeah, s’pose I could, but I work in casualwear.” She shrugged. “Dunno know too much about formalwear. The personal shoppers are better with the posh stuff." 

He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about all that. I’d rather you help me, if that’s alright.”

“I dunno,” she said apprehensively. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m certain, me.”

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “Where d’you want to start, then?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you reckon. I trust you.”

She blushed, feeling an odd glow at his compliment. “Right. An’…how much…I mean, what’s your budget?”

He blinked. “Hadn’t thought about it. What’s a penguin suit go for these days?”

She tried not to grin. “It depends. At Henriks, they go anywhere between four hundred to a few thousand quid. Depends on the designer an’ all that. So ‘s up to you.”

He shrugged. “Just want something decent. Never been one for posh designers, me. Just want a nice suit so Donna doesn’t go after me jacket. 

She nodded slowly, considering. “Alright. What you after then? Tux? Suit and tie? Morning coat? What’s the dress code?”

The tips of his ears turned red. “Would you believe I haven’t looked? Half a mo’.” He dug into his pocket and fished out a stiff, cream-coloured card and thrust it at her.

Rose took the wedding invitation and peered at it. “Right,” she said. “Semi-formal, so you’d need a nice suit, I reckon. Don’t need a tux ‘cause it’s not black tie.”

She walked towards the nicer suits, avoiding the big designer names, as he’d requested, and squinted nervously for a moment. Rifling slowly through the rack, she chose a few she thought would suit his slender, rangy build. She stuck mostly to navies and dark blues, and also added a couple in black and grey, just in case he preferred more standard colours.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Rose stiffened at the sound of that voice. Melissa Atkins was a personal shopper in this department and she took every opportunity to remind Rose that she _wasn’t_. Melissa was posh, slim and perfectly groomed- and a right royal madam to boot.

“I’m alright, thanks. Rose is helpin’ me,” she heard John say.

She held her breath, waiting for Melissa’s response. 

“How nice.” Melissa’s tone dripped with insincerity. “However, Rose is only a sales-clerk in _casualwear_ , and formalwear requires rather more…sophistication. Perhaps you might care for more… _expert_ assistance?” 

“No thanks,” he replied cheerfully. “Quite happy with Rose.”

“I see.” Melissa sounded more than a little irritated now. “Well, I am... _available_ , sir, should you change your mind.”

“I’m fine, ta, but that bloke over there looks like he could use a hand.”

Rose tried not to laugh at John’s none-too-subtle dismissal and plucked a few dress shirts from the rack.

“Quite. Please excuse me, sir.”

“Off you go, then.”

Rose sniggered very, very quietly and went back to John once she was sure Melissa had moved on. “Bit obvious, weren’t you?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“She’s right though,” Rose pointed out. “She knows a lot more than I do about all this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged “She doesn’t know me from Adam. I’d much rather you picked something out.”

She blushed. “Yeah, s’pose.” Taking a deep breath, she held up her pickings. “I got a few things, wasn’t sure what colours you liked, or anything…”

His answering smile was very gentle. “I’m sure one of them’s the ticket then. I trust you Rose- you’ve got a good eye.”

She blushed again. “Thanks.”

Leading him to the dressing room, she hung up the clothes and shuffled off to wait outside.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself simultaneously wishing that this could both go on forever and end this very instant. John in jeans and a jumper was distracting enough. John in a suit was _dangerous_. The slim fitting suits she’d picked flattered his rangy build and he looked….delicious. Rose was having a very hard time remaining professional when all she wanted to do was run her hands over him and snog him senseless and her control seemed to be lessening with each suit he tried on.

What was _wrong_ with her? She was acting like a fifteen year old with a crush; she was twenty-four, and at _work_.

But this was _John_. That was the problem. The bloke was too fit for any woman’s peace of mind, and what made it worse was that he was amazing on the inside, too. He was kind and sharp and funny and he treated her like she was important, like she was….worthwhile. She’d never met anyone like him.

How on earth was she meant to overcome this crush? 

“Rose? What about this one?”

She shook herself out of her reverie and looked up. 

And almost swallowed her tongue. 

John was shifting nervously in a navy pinstripe suit with a pale blue dress shirt, and he looked…. _edible._

“Rose?”

She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak, trying not to rake her eyes over him. “Yeah, that’s….that’s the one.”

“Yeah?” He beamed. “Good. I like blue, me." 

She nodded faintly, trying desperately not to stare. “Yeah, s’perfect. You look… _great_.”

To Rose’s amazement, he blushed and the tips of his ears turned red. “Thanks.”

She shook herself out of it and cleared her throat. “You’ll need a tie, though. Hang on a mo’.”

She forced her limbs to work and made her way to the tie rack, taking a deep steadying breath.

It wasn’t fair that she had to see him looking like _that_ and have to hold back- but she did. After all, it wasn’t his fault she was falling for him, and it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t see her that way either. She was very lucky to have someone like him in her life, and nothing was worth ruining that.

 _Come on Rose,_ she told herself. _Get a move on._

Turning back to the ties, she pulled a few off the rack and hurried back to the dressing room where John was waiting patiently, totally oblivious to the appreciative glances he was getting.

 “Here you are.” She held out her selections. “Wasn’t sure which you’d like so….”

He looked at her for a moment and then at the ties. “Which one do you like?”

She blinked. “I…they’re all nice.” 

‘Yeah, but which one would you choose? Which do you reckon looks best?”

She looked at the ties for a moment before pointing to a navy blue just a couple of shades darker than the suit. “That one.” 

He nodded. “That’ the one then. Right, I’ll take this lot, thanks.” 

Rose stared. “What, you’d seriously pick a suit and tie just because I liked ‘em?”

“Yep.” He beamed. “As long you as you think it looks right, that’s good enough. That’s all I care about, me.”

Rose blushed again as he turned to go and change back into his own clothes.

He couldn’t mean what she thought he did...could he?


	2. I Think You Need a Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose was surprised. But then, so was he. And so was Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! As promised, here is the next chapter of this fic. It's a teensy bit angsty in places but not terribly much, and it delves right back into the fluff bucket, I promise.
> 
> This wasnt quite what I was expecting to write, but the muse wants what the muse wants.
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> HUGE thanks to mountaingirlheidi for her fabulous beta!!! <3

“You mean you can’t fix it?” Rose looked desperately at Jack. “But the service blokes are all off until Tuesday an’ my food’s gonna go off!”

Jack grimaced and peered at the fridge again, shaking his head. “Sorry Rosie, but this is way beyond me. This looks like a mechanical failure- I wouldn’t know where to start with this motor.”

Rose cringed at the thought of the chops she’d just bought for her Easter dinner being tossed into the rubbish. With her mum and Howard visiting his relatives in Somerset, it was going be her first Easter alone, and she’d intended to spoil herself a little. Now it looked as though she’d have to make do with a cheap takeaway- no way could she afford to buy more chops, and with her fridge on fritz she had nowhere to keep them, anyway.

Jack sighed. “I’m sorry Rosie, but there’s nothing I can do with this.”

She sighed. “S’okay, Jack. S’not your fault. You tried.”

“Yeah, but…” He trailed off, frowning. “You know, there is one guy who _might_   be able to help.”

“Yeah? Who?” Rose asked desperately.

“A friend of mine, the best damn mechanical engineer you’ll ever meet. Never met a machine the Doctor couldn’t fix.”

Rose blinked. “The Doctor? I thought you said he was an engineer.”

“Oh, the Doctor’s just a nickname, of sorts- been calling him that since we met on deployment about fifteen years ago; even then he was _the_ mechanical guy. He’s the senior engineer in charge at TARDIS automotive, these days.”

“An’ you really think this bloke’s goin’ to come out here at seven in the evening on Good Friday?” She swallowed, trying to work out how much she could afford to fork out. “How much will he take, you reckon? Will he expect public holiday rates, or something?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “The Doc won’t take a thing, if I know him. He’ll do it as a favour to me and he _might_ flirt with your fridge. He loves his machines and he’ll scorch you with his eyes if you try to pay him.” He shuddered. “Those eyes.”

Rose snorted. “No pullin’ blokes in my kitchen, ta.” Then she sobered. “Are you sure though? I mean, I feel bad callin’ him out here and not payin’ him for his time.”

“Not a chance Rosie, he won’t take a penny if you try. Just make him a cuppa and he’ll be over the moon. Never met a man as obsessed with tea as he is.”

“Sounds like John,” she smiled, shaking her head.

“Ah yes, the mysterious John! I want to hear all about him! Just let me call the Doc, first.”

He made the call and quickly explained the situation. The Doctor must have agreed because Jack rattled off her address and hung up.

“He’ll be here in ten minutes- he was close by, apparently. Lucky you!” he winked.

Rose smiled nervously. “Yeah. Just… I dunno, I don’t feel right makin’ him trek out here for nothin’.”

“Trust me, he’ll probably thank for you for the chance to pull your fridge apart. Sometimes I think he likes machines better than people. So!” Jack wriggled onto the couch next to Rose and slipped his arm about her shoulders. “Tell me all about your mysterious John. Are you shagging yet? When can I meet him?”

She slapped him. “Prat. You know we’re not like that.”

“But you’d _like_ to be.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Wouldn’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed. “We’re not, an’ that’s all there is to it.”

“But why not, Rosie? You’re obviously crazy about him. For the last three months, every time I talk to you it’s been John this and John said that. Make a move already!”

She sighed. “He doesn’t see me like that Jack. ‘m just a friend. I am!” She insisted at the scoffing sound Jack made. “An’ I’m OK with that- he’s _amazin_ ’ an’ I’m lucky to have him.”

Jack looked at her disbelievingly. “You’re seriously telling me that a man who has lunch with you every day and _waits for you every single day_ doesn’t fancy you _?”_

She said nothing, but Jack wouldn’t let it go. “OK, tell me this- do you see him outside of your lunch dates?”

“They’re not dates,” she protested weakly and Jack fixed her with a look. She sighed. ‘Fine, yes, I did, but it was only the one time. He came to see me at work- he needed a suit for his sister’s wedding.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “And he let _you_ choose it?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what you think, Jack. He just said he trusted my taste ‘cause I know him. That’s why he wouldn’t let the formalwear girls choose it.”

“Oh, for heaven’s… Rosie, he wanted YOU to choose his clothes because he wants to look good for YOU.”

Rose flushed, remembering that John had actually said as much. “I dunno, I thought for a second there he might… I mean he said something… but he never did anything about it, you know?”

“Maybe he’s shy,” Jack suggested. “You said he’s older, right?”

“Yeah, reckon he’s in his late thirties at least,” she said, mind whirling.

“That’s a big age gap,” Jack pointed out. “Maybe he’s scared that _you_ won’t be interested in _him_ , that you’ll think he’s too old or something.”

“Maybe,” she said slowly, almost afraid to consider the possibility. “But what if he isn’t?”

“What if he is and you’re both missing out on something good because you’re so scared to take a chance that’s you’re missing each other’s signals?” He fired back.

“I know, but…”

“Rosie, I just want you to be happy.” He squeezed her to him for a moment. “And I’ve never seen you light up about anyone the way you do about John. I haven’t even seen you _look_ at a bloke since that arsehole Mitchell. Just… think about what I said, OK? I don’t want you to miss out on something good because you’re scared.”

“Yeah, OK,” she sighed, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment.

“That’s my girl. Oh!” He jumped as the doorbell sounded. “That’ll be the Doctor.”

“Right, would you get it? I’m goin’ to put the kettle on.” She stood and tried to calm the nerves in her stomach at the thought of some high-ranking engineer fixing her fridge.

“ _Rosie_.” He fixed her with a stern look and she sighed.

“OK, alright. Fine. I’ll get it. Just make sure you fill the kettle right up to the top, yeah?”

“Sure thing. Now go and open the door.” He turned and made for the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door and fixing a smile on her face, she swung it open and hoped for the best.

“Hi, I’m Rose, thanks so much for… _John_?”

John stared. “Rose! What you doin’ here?”

“I live here!” She managed, her heart sinking. John couldn’t be the Doctor. He just couldn’t be.

“Well, what you do that for?” He winked cheekily.

She huffed and tugged him into the flat. “Get in here.” Closing the door, she turned to him. “What…” She swallowed. “Are you… are you the Doctor?”

He grinned. “That’s me. ‘S it your fridge on the blink, then?”

“Yeah.” She tried to smile, ignoring her heavy heart. “I… thanks for comin’ out. I really appreciate it, ‘specially at seven in the evening on Good Friday. I… I know Jack told me you’d say no, but-“

“But nothing,” he interrupted. “You’d better not be saying what I think you’re saying, Rose Tyler, because I’ll tell you now, I wouldn’t have accepted money from a stranger and I won’t accept it from you.”

She swallowed. “Thanks, but I… I just feel bad dragging you out here now. You should be at home relaxin.’”

“Rubbish. I’d have come straightaway if you called me.” He frowned. “Why did you call Jack?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t know you were an engineer, and Jack’s an old friend who likes to tinker with parts. Thought he might be able to do something with it.”

“You didn’t know?”

“’S not like we really talk about work, is it?” She pointed out.

“Well, no, s’pose not.” He cocked his head questioningly. “Just out of interest, what’d you think I did then?”

Rose flushed. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

He raised an eyebrow and she sighed.

“Fine. Thought you were a mechanic,” she mumbled shamefacedly.

“Not far wrong, that.”

She snorted. “Yeah, ‘cept there’s a big difference between a mechanic and a top mechanical engineer, isn’t there?”

“Not as much as you might think,” he told her. “Rose, I-“

“Oh, hey Doc! That was fast!” Jack meandered in with a tea tray and set it down on the table. “Let me introduce you to-“

“He knows,” Rose interrupted.

“He does?”

She sighed. “Yeah. Jack, this is _John_.”

“John? As in _the_ John?” Jack looked gobsmacked. “You’re telling me that the guy you’ve been seeing every day is the _Doctor_?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that,” she mumbled. “Look, you drink your tea, and I’ll go and clean out the fridge so you can work.”

With a forced smile, she vanished into the kitchen, kicking herself all the while.

John, _her_ John, was the Doctor.

One thing was clear; there was no way John was going to be interested in her and this ridiculous crush had to stop. It was bad enough that she’d been pining after him when she’d thought he was a good looking older bloke who was a mechanic, but now she’d discovered that he was some high-level engineer at a big company.

John Noble was way out of her league.

She’d been here before, had dated a professional bloke and she’d learned the hard way that classes didn’t mix. Adam Mitchell had taught her that. There was no way a big engineer would ever be interested in an uneducated shop girl from Peckham, so she’d best put that ridiculous nonsense right out of her head and get to work.

A few minutes later, she’d managed to fit most of the contents of her fridge into the cool bag, which she thought should be alright for a couple of hours and was wondering what she could do to keep herself occupied, when a hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Rose?”

“Oh, John. Um, fridge is here. ‘s ready.” She babbled, unable to quite look him in the eye.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “Just… Rose, are you alright?”

“Course I am!” She forced a smile, edging towards the door. “I just… I’m goin’ to go and clean up the sittin’ room a bit. ‘S a mess. ‘Scuse me.”

She closed the door behind her and ducked back into the sitting room, where Jack was waiting.

“Rosie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” she muttered. “Just leavin’ John to work in peace while I tidy up in here.”

“Yeah… fancy the Doc being your John,” he said, watching her intently.

“’S not _my_ John,” she said somewhat shortly. “We’re just friends. Told you that.”

“You also said you’d think about telling him you’re interested in more,” he pointed out, still watching her.

“Yeah, well, that was before,” she said, swallowing.

“Before what?”

“Before I found out he was a big engineer at some posh company! He’s out of my league, Jack.”

“What?”

“Blokes like him don’t date shopgirls.”

“Rosie, I think you’re jumping to conclusions, here. He’s not Adam Mitchell and he’s not Jimmy Stone. Don’t you think you should ask him and let him decide what he wants?” Jack raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Look, just drop it, OK?” She didn’t want to think about it anymore. She could only be glad that she hadn’t said anything to John about being more than friends because really, he’d have had every right to laugh at her.

Not that he would. Rose knew John would never treat her like that. And he’d never cheat on her and dump her in front of a pub full of people like Adam had, either.

But that didn’t change anything. He was on a completely different playing field and she needed to remember that.

“Rosie…”

“Just forget it.” She swallowed. “Please, Jack?”

He sighed and stood up from the couch. “I think you’re making a big mistake here, Rosie.” He shook his head. “I can see you want to be alone though, so I’ll leave you to tidy up. I’ll go and bother the Doc for a bit.”

She tried to smile. ‘Thanks.”

As soon as he was gone, she swallowed heavily and got to work.

++++++++++++

An hour later, she’d tidied the sitting room, dusted the furniture and swept the hallway. She was about to start on her room when the sound of voices entered the sitting room.

Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile to her face and turned to the two men. “So how’d you go? Any luck?”

“As always, the Doctor saved the day.” Jack searched her face, his eyes intent. “Way he works machines is a thing of beauty.” He cleared his throat. “You know, I really need to head off, Rosie.” He winked cheekily. “Got a few things to take care of- things to see, people to do.”

Rose felt her face burning with embarrassment and she could have cheerfully throttled him at that moment for his all too obvious attempts to leave her alone with John.

“Right." She forced a smile. “Thanks for comin’ over.”

“Anytime, Rosie. You know that.” He turned to John and waggled his eyebrows. “You kids have fun now, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

John snorted. “That’s a short list, Harkness. Don’t think there’s much you wouldn’t do.”

Jack smirked. “I know.” Giving Rose a hug, he tossed John a salute and made for the door. “Later, kids,” he called.

The sound of the door closing behind him seemed unnaturally loud at that moment and the was flat terribly quiet.

Turning to John, she tried to smile. “Thanks so much for… for comin’ over and for fixin’ my fridge. You saved my all my food, and I’d just done the shoppin.’

“My pleasure,” was all he said. He didn’t make a move to leave, however; he just stood there, looking at her consideringly.

“Would you, um, d’you want another cuppa?” Rose offered, both hoping and dreading that he might say yes. She craved his company as much as she ever had, but she was also afraid to be alone with him, worried that in her agitated state she might let something slip that she shouldn’t.

‘Not just now, thanks.” John shifted slightly. “Rose, are you angry with me?”

“What?” She blinked. “No, of course not!”

He frowned. “Have I done something to make you uncomfortable, then?”

“No!” She shook her head vehemently.

He exhaled in relief and, to her surprise, gently cupped her face. “Then why are you being so… _evasive_? Feels like you’ve been avoiding me since I got here. Got me frettin’, you have.”

Rose cringed. Now she’d made him feel like he’d done something wrong.

“Honestly, you haven’t done anything, ‘M not mad or whatever.”

He looked at her steadily. “That doesn’t answer my question, Rose. If nothing’s wrong, then why are you acting so differently?”

She swallowed. “I just… I was worried about the fridge dyin’ on me, and having to chuck out my food. My Easter dinner was in there, so…” She shrugged, hoping half of the truth would be enough. “Was just worried about how long it’d take to fix it and how much it’d cost.”

“I don’t doubt that, Rose, but I think there’s something you’re not telling me.” He gently caressed her cheek with his thumb before tugging her towards the sofa. “Please tell me what’s going on. If something’s wrong, I want to know. Maybe I can help. I’m worried, me.”

Sighing, Rose collapsed beside him onto the sofa. If she said nothing, he’d think she was angry and assume he’d done something wrong. If she told him, she’d look like a silly little girl. Either way, she was cornered good and proper, now. And it was a no brainer which she’d choose; there was no way she could let him go on thinking he’d done something wrong when he hadn’t; that wasn’t fair at all.

“’S nothing, really” she said finally. “Just… I was worried. About the fridge, I mean. An’ then I s’pose I was just surprised. About you… you know, the whole Doctor thing.”

“What, about my job, you mean?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “I… I wasn’t expectin’ it, really, an’ it threw me a bit. That’s all.”

He frowned, looking mystified. “But why? You frightened of engineers or sommat?”

She choked a laugh. “No, of course not.”

“Then what?” He sounded completely baffled. “I don’t understand.”

“’Look, I know it sounds daft, but… I just… it shocked me, alright? Suddenly findin’ out you’re this super-important bloke I just… I felt like a bit of a fraud.”

He stared at her. “Why on earth would you feel like a fraud?”

She swallowed back tears, her throat burning. “Because I don’t…look, I already knew you were sharp, yeah? I know you’re really clever, an’ you’ve done all these things and you’ve been all these amazin’ places…an’ I’m not and I haven’t.” She swallowed, looking at him plaintively. “And you’re always so nice about it. You act like it doesn’t matter that I’m just… just a stupid shopgirl. An’ I knew I was so, so lucky that someone like you was friends with someone like me. An’ then I found out that…that you’re even more above me than I thought, and it was just…” She looked down, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I just felt like a complete idiot.”

“No!” He looked dismayed. “You’re _not_ stupid, you’re _not_ beneath me, an’ you’re _not_ an idiot. You’re not…” He swallowed, his eyes intent on hers. “ _I’m_ lucky to have _you_ , Rose. I’m old and grumpy and too bitter by half, but you? You’re young and bright and kind and compassionate.” He slipped a finger under her chin, gently pushing until she looked him in the eye. “Who takes a cuppa along to old Gwyneth next door when it’s cold, ‘ey? Who helps Mrs Redfern carry her groceries every week?” He fixed her with a look. “Who helped Jack through his drinking problem when he came off active duty a few years ago?”

“I never said I did anything like that,” she said quietly, wondering how he’d found out.

He waved his hand dismissively. “No, Jack did. But that’s not the point. Point is, you’ve a big heart, Rose Tyler. And you’re dead clever- I _love_ talkin’ to you, me. You’ve got such a fantastic way of looking at the world- makes me feel like I’m looking at it again for the first time.” He stared at her intently, willing her to understand. “You’re fantastic, Rose.”

Rose shrugged. “I’m not really, though. M’ just me, nothing important.”

His eyes blazed into hers. “Who says you’re not important?”

She huffed, swiping at her eyes. “’S the truth, though, innit? I’m a shopgirl. Didn’t even finish school. Far as anyone’s concerned, I’m nothing and nobody.”

He shook his head. “Stupid apes, the lot of ‘em.”

She didn’t say anything and he pressed on.

“Why does it matter what either of us writes on the little dotted line under ‘occupation’? What difference does it make whether I write engineer or mechanic, or if you write shopgirl, or artist or…or space traveller? What does it mean to us? Nothin,’ that’s what. You’re Rose, and I’m John and that’s that.”

She exhaled. “Yeah, but you have to admit, ‘s not exactly normal, yeah? People would be surprised to find out we’re even friends, ‘cause let’s be honest, John- you’re way out of my league.”

“That’s completely daft! This is the twenty-first first century, Rose, not regency England. We don’t have to define people by what they do and who their father is.”

Rose huffed. “S different with you- you’re different, I know that, but there’s lots people who don’t see it that way.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who, exactly?”

“’S not important,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s makin’ you doubt what I’m sayin’ to you, then it does matter. It matters a lot.”

She rubbed a hand over her face, frustrated. “’M not doubtin’ you. I swear I’m not. I’d never- not you.”

His expression was suddenly very gentle. “Then what, Rose?”

She sighed. “Look, ‘S just… I’ve been here before and not everyone thinks the same way you do, OK? There’s lots of people who think I don’t belong in your world.”

“We live in the same world, Rose,” he said softly. “You and me.”

She huffed a bitter laugh, trying to blink away the tears filling her eyes. “Not so’s you notice. Lots of people say not.”

“Who, Rose?”

She sighed. “Just someone I knew, once.”

He looked at her unblinkingly and she exhaled in defeat. Honestly, she might as well tell him. What difference did it make now? She’d already made an idiot of herself.

So she told him about Adam Mitchell, the handsome young programmer she’d dated for two months, who’d liked to remind her every day just how far beneath him she was, how lucky she was that he liked her enough to date an uneducated chav from the Estate. She told him how she’d caught Adam at the pub one day, snogging another girl and how when she’d confronted him, he’d humiliated her in front of the entire pub, shouting that she’d only ever been his bit on the side, that he’d been with the redhead for over a year, and that she’d been mad to think a ‘well-educated, well-connected man would ever seriously take up with a daft bint from the wrong end of London.’

His eyes were burning when she finished. “He’s wrong.”

She almost flinched at the rage contained in his expression.

“He’s _wrong_ , Rose. He’s a pathetic little snake who tried to make himself look better by breaking you down.”

“But…” she croaked, only to be interrupted.

“But nothing. He’s wrong, and that weasel had better hope he never runs into me.” He clenched his jaw for a moment, visibly trying to calm himself. “It doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to me that you work in a shop. I’m not ashamed of you Rose. I’m proud to know you.”

A tear ran down her face and she swiped at it. “What for?”

He wiped the tear away and cupped her chin again. “Because you’re you, Rose, because of everything you are.”

She didn’t say anything.

“‘S a matter of trust, Rose. Do you trust me enough to believe what I say?”

She nodded without hesitation. That was never in question. She trusted John, had done since almost the minute she’d met him.

“Good. Then trust me when I tell you I’m so glad I met you. I’m proud to know you." He gazed intently at her. “I want to _keep_ knowin’ you. I don’t want to lose you. That alright?”

She nodded, swiping at her cheeks. “Yeah.”

“Right, then.” He slipped an arm about her shoulders and drew her tightly to him for a moment. “I don’t want to hear anymore of that rubbish about you bein ‘beneath me’ ever again. You understand, Rose Tyler?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder and breathing in his scent.

“Good.” He shifted slightly and rested his head on top of hers. “Had me worried for a moment there.”

“How come?” She mumbled into his shoulder.

He shrugged, dislodging her slightly. “Thought maybe you were saying you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

She lifted her head. “What? Why?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I’m a grumpy old sod, Rose, and you’re a beautiful, bright young woman.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “There’s lots of people who’d say you could do a lot better than associating with the likes of me.”

She frowned. “S’ rubbish! An’ you’re not old!”

“’S true, though. Can think of a few who’d say that, me,” he pressed.

“Bugger ‘em! That’s completely daft.”

He raised an eyebrow and she flushed, finally understanding where he’d been going with this.

“Caught on, have we?” He nudged her gently in the side, grinning his daft, beautiful grin.

“Shut up,” she muttered, burying her face into his shoulder.

He snorted. “Not likely. Was _born_ talkin’, me.”

“I can believe it,” she muttered into his leather jacket.

He huffed a laugh and then sobered. “Trust, Rose. Remember that. For both of us.”

She nodded.

“Glad that’s settled then.” He sighed and sank back into the sofa. “Well, this has knocked things about a bit. Not quite how I planned it.”

“Planned what?” She looked at him in confusion.

He shifted slightly and she sat up. “Well, I was trying to get up the nerve to talk to you about something.” He flushed. “Haven’t quite managed it yet, but now's as good a time as any, I suppose.”

“Managed what?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, you know Donna’s wedding is next month.”

“Yeah,” she croaked, her throat suddenly dry. He wasn’t… he _couldn’t_ be… could he?

He swallowed. “I was hopin’… that is, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come with me. As my plus one.”

“Your plus one?” She parroted dumbly. Had he actually asked her to his sister’s wedding? After everything she’d told him and the complete arse she’d made of herself, he still wanted her with him?”

“Yeah, you know. My escort. No, not my escort!” He flushed, the tips of his ears turning red. “That came out wrong.”

“Are you- are you askin’ me to be your date?” She asked hoarsely.

“I- yeah, I ‘spose I am.” He folded his arms nervously.

“As friends,” she guessed, trying to calm her beating heart. He wasn’t asking her out, he just wanted a date for the wedding, she told herself.

He cleared his throat. “Not exactly.”

“No?” Her heartbeat was so loud she was certain he could hear it now.

“No.” His eyes burned into hers. “What if I want to be more than friends?”

Her eyes grew wide, her heart suddenly pounding. “What?”

“If I wanted to be more than a friend, Rose Tyler,” he said lowly, “would that be alright?”

She swallowed, too afraid to hope that this was real, that it could happen. “You mean you want…”

Instead of replying, he leaned in and softly touched his lips to hers. It was so brief that it was barely a kiss, but it set her heart pounding like nothing ever had before.

He _wanted_ her. Even after everything, he wanted her like she wanted him and she was so full of joy and relief and worry and nervousness that she felt as though she were going to explode.

He smiled nervously, stroking her cheek. “Understand now?”

She nodded, eyes wide, unable to believe this was happening.

“So is that alright?” He repeated, looking slightly anxious.

“I… yeah,” she whispered, choking back her worry, her doubts.

Trust.

“Yeah?” His eyes were on her again and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

“Yeah,” she managed.

“Good,” he said, swallowing convulsively.

“Good,” she echoed, trembling.

"Right." He nodded, grinning as he drew them both back against the sofa. "Fantastic."

They were quiet for a moment before John spoke again.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"How d'you feel about company for Easter dinner?"

She laughed dazedly, exhaling in a nervous rush, her heart ridiculously full. "I'd love it.” She looked down and shyly took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “Better with two."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS- I'm thinking of writing an epilogue for this fic, if people are interested. What you think? Let me know!


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just your typical wedding- until it wasn't. But neither of them would change a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people! Er, surprise? I know this is past overdue (I think this story was posted in April), but the muse was stubborn and refused to obey. However, I've been slogging away at it and here it is, in honour of NINE MONTH (NINE!!!! MY BELOVED NINE!)- the epilogue to this little human AU. I hope it's not too much of disappointment (especially after such a long wait) and I hope you like it :) As you've probably guessed, it's set at Donna's reception.  
> And now, on with the show!
> 
>  
> 
> [Rose’s dress](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7By1oK2Xqr4/S1HCd3DIppI/AAAAAAAAIFc/66PwkLns8t8/mod+\(925\).jpg)
> 
>  
> 
>  

 

“Blimey!”

“Don’t laugh!” Rose fidgeted anxiously with the skirt of her dress, wondering if maybe she shouldn’t have gone with the plain black after all. Why had she listened to Martha? The gold was  too.…bold…. True, it had been the one dress she’d both liked and been able to afford (even with her employee discount, Henrik’s was very pricey), but still…

John’s very next words, however, dispelled her doubts.

“You look _beautiful_!” He swallowed, his eyes wide. “And that's sayin’ something, considering…”

She blushed. “Considerin’ what?”

He grinned lopsidedly. “Considerin’ you’re always beautiful.” Shuffling into the flat, he shut the door behind him and slipped his hands about her waist. “I’ll be the envy of every man there. Sure you want to be seen with this daft old face?”

She stood back and gazed at him, taking the time to appreciate how handsome he looked in his suit, now that her nerves had vanished. “ _Oh_ , yeah.” She pressed a soft kiss on his lips, still revelling in the fact that she _could_ , that he was _hers_ to kiss whenever she liked.

And in the month they’d been together, she’d discovered John Noble was a brilliant kisser.

Apparently, his mind was moving along similar lines and he dropped a few soft kisses on her lips, causing her to mewl and press closer, wanting more than the brief touches he was giving her. However, to her dismay, he dropped only one more kiss on her lips and drew back slightly, holding her at arm’s length.

Why had he stopped?

“We should go,” he said, gently rubbing his thumb across her lower lip before taking a deep breath and moving away slightly. “You wanted to leave early, love, remember?”

Ah. That was why.

She swallowed and nodded, moving to the hallway mirror to touch-up her lipstick. She’d wanted to leave early because today was the first time she was meeting Donna and she refused to run the risk of being late to the wedding. She was worried what they’d all think of her as it was, and she refused to give them any reason to see her as a flaky little girl. Or worse.

As if he'd read her mind, John moved behind her, slipping his arms about her waist as she dropped the lipstick back into her little clutch purse.

“She’ll love you,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers in the mirror. “How could she not?”

Rose shrugged, reaching up to fix a curl that had come lose from the chignon Martha had styled for her. “I just…I don’t want her to think I’m just some flaky, money-grabbing chav from the Estate and-”

“She doesn’t,” he interrupted, spinning her round to face him, his blue eyes intent. “She won’t. She’ll love you because you make me happy. And you do, Rose. You make me happy in ways I never thought I could be.” He smiled; a gentle, genuine smile that he only ever gave her, his eyes burning with words he couldn’t say. “I’m so glad I met you.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him, despite the butterflies in her stomach. “Me too.” She took a deep breath. “I just…people will wonder, you know. They'll wonder why you took up with some nobody from the Estate when you could have anyone.”

He stroked a finger across her cheek. “Don’t want anyone else- just want _you_.”

“I know.” She couldn’t help but smile at his expression. “I want you too. Always will. But you have to admit, to anyone else it looks obvious. I mean, you’re… _you_ and I’m no one, really. They’ll think I’m workin’ you over- just another chav shaggin’ a good lookin’ older bloke, tryin’ to squeeze him for a few quid.”

“Don’t you talk about yourself like that Rose,” he growled, eyes blazing. “Don’t even _think_ it.”

She smiled sadly. “’S not the first time people have said it, though, is it? Half the people on the Estate reckon I’m usin’ you to shag my way out of here.”

“Sod ‘em!” he growled. “It’s nothin’ like that! You wouldn’t even let me buy you a dress for the wedding!” 

She put a placating hand on his arm. “I don’t care what they say, really, I don’t. ’S not the first time I’ve had people say that about me. It’s just…” She swallowed. “I don’t want _Donna_ to think that about you. About me.” She looked at him, unable to hide her worry. “I don’t care what strangers think, but I don’t want your own sister to think I’m like that, that _we’re_ like that. I don’t want to cause problems between you.”

He took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. “Rose, love, I promise you she won’t.” Slipping a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up. “Donna knows me too well to think I could ever fall for a tired old routine like that.” He snorted. “Honestly, she’s so relieved that I’m actually found someone that she half-loves you already. Think she’d just about given up hope that I’d ever let anyone close again, after…everything.” 

Rose stroked his arm, knowing how much he hated mentioning his time in the army and feeling guilty that she’d made him bring it up. She had no idea what he’d seen, but she knew enough to know he’d suffered several losses. Maybe one day he’d open up to her about it.

“And besides,” he added. “Jack’s been raving about you for weeks now, and she can’t wait to meet you. She trusts Jack, you know. He might shag anything that breathes, but he's got a hell of a nose on him. Brilliant judge of character, that one, and Donna knows it.”

“Yeah?” she asked quietly. 

“Yeah. And he’ll be at the wedding too-he’s at our table, Donna says.”

She exhaled. “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to get all morbid. I just…I want them to like me. An’ I want them to know how I feel about you, how much I…. I don’t want them to think I’m usin’ you or, or-”

John smiled and kissed her, softly. “I know, love, and Donna knows. Lord knows I’ve been raving about you for months. Haven’t shut up about you, me.”

Rose smiled shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He stroked her cheek. “So what do you say? Ready to go?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

++++++++++++++

Rose tried to steady her breathing as they turned to walk into the reception at the Torchwood Hotel. The church had been one thing- they’d only had time to exchange a few quick greetings afterwards- but this… this was different. This would be _it_.  

“You ready?”

 She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

 John took her hand and intertwined their fingers, his other hand caressing her cheek. “They’ll love you, Rose.”

“Hope so.” She tried to smile. “Least Jack’s in there, so there’s at least one person who does.”

“Oi! Are you _laughin’_ at me, Rose Tyler?” he scowled theatrically, the twinkle in his eyes giving him away.

“Who, me?” She grinned, naturally, this time and John beamed in response.

“That’s better,” he said. “Come on, then.”

She nodded. “Let’s do it. Together, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“K.” She took another deep breath. Right. She could do this. She was with Doctor John Noble and he was with her and if anyone didn’t like it they could bugger right off. The only people who mattered were Donna and her new husband.

She still clutched John’s hand on the way in, though.

They shed their coats in the cloakroom and nervous as she was, she couldn’t help but stare at his very edible self in that suit. God, he was gorgeous.

And he’d chosen her.

And he _really_ liked her dress if his burning gaze was any indication.

She hugged the memory of that look to her chest like a shield, mentally thanking Martha as they made their way to the seating ushers at the doors to the reception room.

“The Doctor plus one.”

“Er, yes. Right…….the Doctor….err…..Doctor Who?” The young, nervous looking man asked, scanning the lists frantically. Rose rolled her eyes. As if the poor kid would find their table under the Doctor’s nickname, of all things.

“Sorry. Doctor John Noble. I’m the Doctor and she’s Rose Tyler.” John beamed. “She’s my plus one.”

“Oh, I- my apologies, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Ahem, right yes, here it is, Doctor John Noble and guest- Ms Rose Tyler, sorry- table nine. Right this way, please.”

As they followed the nervous lad into the room, Rose tossed the Doctor an exasperated grin. “The Doctor? Really?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Forgot it would be under m’name- most people call me Doctor. Have done for years, now.”

“What, really? Everyone?”

“Not _everyone_ , exactly. But most people.”

“What about Donna?” She asked curiously.

John grimaced slightly. “Donna calls me something else.”

Rose grinned. “’S’at so? Any chance of me finding out what it is?”

“No.” He grimaced again. “Definitely not.”

“Oh?” She cast him a suggestive look. “An’ there’s _nothing_ I can do to convince you?”

His eyes gleamed. “I’m open to suggestions, me.”

Rose was about to reply when a very familiar voice intruded (quite rudely, she thought) on their moment.

“If you two are going to set the room on fire with your bedroom eyes, I want in.”

John snorted and Rose rolled her eyes as they turned to their smirking friend at the table.

“Keep dreamin’ Harkness,” John grumbled.

“Of course I do! It’s all I have since neither of you two share.” Jack pouted. “Don’t you know that sharing is caring?”

Rose snorted. “Yeah, no, get your own sharing buddy.”

“Fine,” Jack sighed dramatically. “Be like that.” He suddenly started. “But Rosie- that dress! You look fabulous, honey!”

She blushed. “Thanks.”

Jack turned to John, waggling his eyebrows. “And so do you, Doctor! Wheeeew! Did someone turn up the heat in here?” He fanned himself. “You did _good_ , Rosie, that suit is just perfection.  Doc, you look delectable.”

John rolled his eyes. “Right, thanks for that assessment.” He held out Rose’s chair for her, then slid into his own. “You just keep your eyes and randy comments to yourself, thanks very much.”

“Ooooh, I love it when you get all gruff with me, Doc.” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “That gorgeous voice of yours can tell me what to do any day.”

Rose stifled a giggle at John’s indignant look. Leaning in, she whispered, “He’s right you know. Your voice…” she trailed off suggestively and noted, with immense satisfaction, that he trembled very slightly. Seizing her hand, he gave it a warning squeeze as he whispered, “That so?”

It was her turn to shiver. “Yeah, that’s so,” she whispered back, almost forgetting about Jack on the other side of the table.

Jack, however, was the sort of person that refused to be forgotten about.

“What’s he saying, Rosie? Is it-” and here he smirked cheekily- “naughty?”

John growled in frustration. “No, actually, I was telling her how to get rid of nosy American ex-Captains who can’t keep their noses out of other people’s business.”

“Come on Doc,” Jack whined. “Neither of you will tell me _anything_. I only have my imagination to fall back on.” He sighed. “And even _that_ will only get me so far, you know.”

Rose scoffed a laugh. “Doubt either of us could do anything that could ever top _your_ imagination, you perv.”

“Why thank you, Rosie,” he preened.

John snorted. “Don’t think that was meant as a compliment, Harkness.”

Just as Jack opened his mouth to make what was very likely _another_ dodgy remark, an unfamiliar voice broke in.

“Hello, Doctor.”

John glanced behind him and jumped up immediately. “Wilf!” He shook the other man’s hand heartily and drew him into a hug. “How are you?”

The kind-looking old gentleman grinned. “Much better now that I’ve seen you. Look at you all spruced up! I can scarce remember the last time I saw you out of that leather jacket of yours.”

John snorted, guiding the older man to a seat on his left. “Donna threatened to set it on fire if I showed up in it.”

Wilf chortled. “She said the same about my reindeer antlers.”

“That’s only because you wore them to her engagement party and every single photo of you had reindeer antlers,” John grinned.

Wilf shrugged. “It was Christmas!”

Rose giggled, in spite of herself and Wilf beamed at her. “Oh, I beg your pardon! Now, then, who’s this lovely young lady?”

“Oh!” John grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. This is Rose, Rose Tyler. Rose, this is Wilf- Wilfred Mott, that is. Donna’s grandfather from her mum’s side.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rose.” Wilf gently took her hand and bowed slightly over it before looking back at John. “Anything you want to tell me?”

John grinned somewhat goofily and Wilf chortled gleefully. “Oho! Like that is it? I know that look, Doctor Noble! I’ve seen it on many a man before you! When can we expect an announcement?”

“Oi!” John protested, his effort spoiled by the ridiculous grin on his face. “Bit early for that. Only been seeing each other for a month.”

“Yeah, right!” Jack interrupted, smiling smugly. “You’ve been _seeing_ each other for four months now- you’ve just been too stupid too admit until a month ago.”

“Oho-ho!” Wilf chuckled, looking immensely pleased. “Is that so?”

“No, it isn’t,” John scowled at Jack.

“We were just friends,” Rose put in somewhat shyly. “We only started dating a month ago.”

“Bah, labels!” Wilf waved his hand dismissively. “How long have you known each other?”

“’Bout four months,” she said.

“And did you see each other often?”

John took pity on her and answered that one. “We had lunch most days-”

“ _Every_ day,” put in Jack.

John ignored him and added pointedly, “As _friends_. Good friends.”

“Good friends who talked forever and spent all of their time apart pining for each other,” Jack added.

Wilf raised his eyebrows. “So you were getting to know one another. And you had…romantic inclinations.”

Both Rose and John blushed and said nothing and Wilf chortled again.

“There you are, you see! You’ve been 'seeing’ each other longer than you’ll admit.” He waggled an admonishing finger at John. “Don’t you make me wait too long for a wedding! I’m getting on and I only have so many years left in me.”

John tried again, the tips of his ears suspiciously red. “Wilf, don’t you go putting words in our mouths.”

Jack grinned. “If you’d prefer something else in your mouth, I could-”

“And that’s enough out of you, young Harkness!” Wilf admonished. “We’ll have none of your cheek here! You mind your manners!”

Jack subsided, somewhat, to Rose’s amazement.  “Sorry, Wilf.”

“How did he do that?” she whispered to John. “I need to learn that trick.”

John opened his mouth, but at that moment, the bridal party was announced, and made their way into the hall with all due fanfare. Shortly after that the entrees were served and shortly after _that_ the remaining guests on their table arrived- a Brigadier General Lethbridge-Stewart, his wife Doris, and a Doctor Harry Sullivan, all of whom had been very good friends with John’s father during his army days, she learned. John had whispered they that the two men had worked in intelligence for some time.  

To her surprise, Rose found that they were pleasant, friendly people who took her relationship with John in stride. There were none of the pointed looks or sly remarks she’d been expecting.

“Please excuse us for being late,” Doris offered to the table at large. “These two-” and here she gestured to her husband and Dr. Sullivan- “were suspiciously absent until about ten minutes before we had to leave for the reception.”

John raised an eyebrow at the two sheepish looking older gentlemen. “Though you’d retired last year?”

The Brigadier cleared his throat. “Well, yes. However, they required a little assistance today on a somewhat urgent matter- purely on a consultative basis, you understand,” he added hastily, seeing John’s wide grin.

Jack snorted. “Consultative. Right. Retired, my shapely ass.”

“Jack!” Wilf scolded. “Language! You’re not too old to be turned over my knee, young man.”

Rose had a sudden image of the tall, broad American being taken to task by the older man and giggled. John squeezed her hand under the table and tossed her a quick grin before turning back to Doris. With a smile, he launched into conversation with her, his usual gruffness nowhere in sight as he affectionately patted the older woman’s arm.  It was heart-warming to observe, and Rose supposed these people were, excluding Donna, the closest John had to family, the last link to his parents. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”

Lost in her thoughts as she was, Rose jumped at the sudden realisation that the gently voiced inquiry was directed at her. 

“Yeah, I am, thanks.”

He tilted his head and examined her curiously. “You were expecting not to?”

“Well,” she flushed. “Not exactly. I just…I don’t really know anyone here, apart from John and Jack.” 

“Surely, though, that shouldn’t be a cause for concern for such a lovely, charming young lady?”

She blushed heavily, not sure how she was supposed to respond. Thankfully, however, Wilf seemed to know what she was going to say and answered his own question. “Facing gossip and nosy questions is never easy, is it?”

She sighed, relieved that he understood and didn’t seem to be judging. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

“Well, never mind that, my dear.” He patted her hand soothingly. “You’ll fine none of that here- the Lethbridge-Stewarts are kind, genteel people and Dr Sullivan is the consummate gentleman. You’ll find no rude questions or assumptions here.”

Exhaling in relief, she managed to give him a smile in thanks for the implied promise not to ask questions. “It’d make for a nice change.”

“Yes, people can be vicious when they’re jealous.”

Rose blinked. “Jealous?”

“Of course.” He waved between her and John, who was caught up in conversation with Dr Sullivan at that point. “Why else would anyone doubt your obvious happiness together?” 

She smiled bitterly. “Oh, everyone’s found something to talk about, and none of it makes me look good.”

Wilf narrowed his eyes. “Such as?”

“The age gap, for one.”

“Rubbish! Why, my Eileen was sixteen years younger than I was, didn’t matter a jot!”

“Really?” She blinked, momentarily distracted.

“Oh, yes! And it was common then, too. Never you mind about that, my dear- so long as you’re both adults, there’s nothing to speak of there!”

She exhaled. “Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“His job….” She looked down at the tablecloth. “He’s….”

“He’s a brilliant and successful man,” Wilf broke in. 

“Yeah. An’ I’m…I’m a shop girl. I work at Henriks,” she said quietly, knowing that wouldn’t be hidden from anyone if she stayed in John’s life. “Didn’t even get my A-Levels.”

“That doesn’t mean much. Neither did I,” Wilf shrugged.

“What? Really?” Her interest was sufficiently piqued and she almost forgot she was essentially confiding embarrassing truths to a stranger. 

“Yes, really. I ran off and enlisted when I was fifteen,” he revealed. “Parachute Regiment. And after that I manned a newspaper stand. Still do, as matter of fact,” he grinned. “That and my telescope keep me busy.”

“You like watching the stars?” she asked, feeling a tiny bit better.

“I do! And your Doctor Noble there joins me every now and then, whenever he’s about. He’d best bring you along, next time.”

Rose smiled in gratitude for his kindness. “I’d like that.”

Wilf beamed. “There we are, then! I’ll expect you soon! I might even be tempted to share some of my famous hot chocolate with you.” He looked her in the eye. “But in all the years I’ve known him, and I’ve known him since he was a lad of eighteen, your John has never once made me feel like a foolish old man, never treated me as though I were _less_. And the one colleague of his who did…well….John sorted him out right quick.” Wilf nodded emphatically. “If ever there was living, breathing proof that education and social status don’t make a worthwhile human being, Doctor Harold Saxon was it. Terrible man. Got himself sacked and locked up in prison for embezzlement, of all things.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say to all of that, and Wilf took pity on her. “All I’m saying, Rose, is don’t let them get you down, don’t let them interfere with you and John. I’ve not seen that boy so happy for a very long time- don’t let anyone put the shadows back in his eyes.” He looked her in the eye. “Don’t let anyone treat you as less than you are. Don’t let them.”

“Don’t let who do what?”

Rose jumped at John’s sudden question. Looking up, she saw his questioning gaze, and nodded to let him know she was alright. Wilf had been very kind to her and she didn’t want John thinking he’d said something to upset her.

“Wilf?”

“Oh, I was just telling your lovely Rose not to let my ageing legs keep her from dancing.” The old man grinned. “That pretty dress deserves to be trotted about the dance floor- my Eileen always said a new dress deserved a good showing.”

John relaxed. “That so?”

“Oh, yes. Go on, Doctor. Ask her to dance.”

“What d’you think?” John leaned into Rose, repressing a grin. “Want to go and show off your dress?”

“With you?” Rose grinned, tongue touching her teeth. “Doesn’t the universe implode or something if Doctor Noble dances?”

He smirked and leaned closer, whispering, “I’ve got the moves, but I wouldn’t want to boast.”

Shivering at his nearness, she took his proffered hand and got up, laughing at Wilf’s satisfied smile. “C’mon you,” she grinned, leading him onto the dance floor. “You'll find your feet at the end of your legs. You may care to move them.”

“Oi! That’s enough cheek out of you.” John mock growled as she moved into his arms.

“Yeah? What you gonna do about it then?” she taunted.

“Well obviously, you’re exhibitin’ grave symptoms of smugitis. Caused by tiny little nanoparticles of smugness, that, and there’s only one cure.”

“Oh?” She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. 

“Yeah. Only one thing left to do, really.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned in and whispered, “I think you need a Doctor,” before catching her lips in a breathtaking kiss.

The moment was ruined a few moments later by the sound of an indignant screech. “Oi! No mating on the dance floor, sunshine!”

Pulling apart, John cast an annoyed look at the bride. “Oi, d’you mind not interruptin’ while I’m in the middle of somethin’?”

Donna snorted. “Please, if you’d kept going you would have been in the middle of something and Spaceman, as much as I love you, I absolutely _do not_ want to see your pasty arse in anything less than three layers.” She shuddered. “Actually, make it four. Just to be safe.”

John sighed, the tips of his ears tinged red with embarrassment. “Right, lovely, that. Thanks so much. Rose, this charming shrew is my sister, Donna, and that’s her long suffering husband of several hours, Lee. Donna, Lee,” and here he glowed, “this is my Rose.”

Donna looked her over and smiled, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you Blondie. Lord knows how you put up with Martian boy here, but it’s nice to finally meet you. For months it’s been nothing but ‘Rose this’ and ‘Rose that’.” 

“N-n-nice to m-m-meet you, R-r-rose,” Lee stuttered quietly.

“Nice to meet you too,” Rose returned softly. So far, so good. “Congratulations to both of you.”

The two couples made small talk for a couple of minutes before someone called Donna from across the room. “We’ll have a proper chat later,” Donna said, tugging Lee by the hand. “But I couldn’t wait any longer to meet you.”

Rose nodded, hoping she managed to get through _that_ conversation without treading on any conversational landmines. Donna was a formidable woman, but it was clear, teasing aside, that she loved her brother fiercely.

As the bridal couple left, Rose exhaled in relief.

“Alright?”

Seeing John looking at her in concern, she smiled. “Yeah…just, you know. Wanted to make a good first impression.”

“You did,” he said quietly, pulling her close and resting her head on his shoulder. “She liked you. And once she gets to know you, she’ll love you.” He took a deep breath. “Like I do.”

Rose tensed before pulling back and eyeing him in wonder. “You…you do?”

He nodded jerkily. “Know it’s early days, me, and we’ve only been seein’ each other for a month…but I do.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Can’t help it.”

“Oh, but that’s…brilliant!” She breathed. 

“Yeah?” He swallowed, blue eyes alight. “Why’s that, then?”

She smiled and buried her face in his neck. “I reckon you know.”

“Might do…but it needs saying anyway,” he rumbled, resting his head on top of hers as they swayed.

“I…I love you,” she whispered into his skin, feeling his relieved groan.

“Yeah? Fantastic,” he sighed. “Quite right, too.”

She snorted. “Prat.”

“Oi! No ruinin’ the moment.” 

Giggling, she pressed a kiss to his neck and sighed in contentment. Nothing, _nothing_ could be better than this, and even without Wilf’s plea, she knew she’d fight like a she-wolf to keep it.  John was _everything_. He wasn’t just her boyfriend, he was so much _better_ than that. And best of all, he was teaching her how to value herself. He saw so much when he looked at her, and thought she was capable of so much more than she'd ever thought. She was slowly learning to be kinder to herself than she ever had, to really think of her potential, and it was all down to him. She’d even given thought to pursuing her art for the first time in years, and it was all down to his influence- not, as she'd firmly told her mum, because he wanted her to change jobs, but because he wanted her to pursue whatever was important to her, to follow her passions. He wanted whatever she wanted for herself and she knew he'd support her all the way, whatever she chose.

And she knew she'd always choose him.

Always.

And so they swayed, song after song, speaking softly and totally oblivious to the world around them until Jack pointedly cut in and danced Rose across the floor. Ignoring John’s glare as he somewhat grudgingly turned to dance with his sister, Jack twirled Rose ostentatiously about the room, dipping and spinning her and, as he put it, showing off her dress to best advantage. 

At one point, he leaned in and whispered, “Happy?”, to which she simply looked across the floor and John and beamed.

“Excellent,” Jack chortled. “You two are so adorable you almost make me believe in fairy tales.”

As the song finished, they all found themselves back at their table, along with Donna and Lee, whom Rose was very happy to learn were uncomplicated, straightforward people who seemed genuinely willing to get to know her and whom she had no trouble talking with at all. They were very interested in her life, and weren’t at all condescending about her job. In fact, Donna specially asked to come and see her at work one day so that Rose could help her choose a few things. Rose beamed and was only too happy to agree.

A while later, as Donna chatted with a beaming Wilf, Rose leaned into John and wondered if she could drag him back out onto the dance floor. Just as she turned to ask him, however, she was interrupted by a naked young man ducking into the hall and running past their table, followed by a troupe of enraged policeman.

“What….?” John was utterly baffled. Rose turned to him, wide-eyed and shook her head.

“Pete Wilson! You get back ‘ere right now!” The lead policeman called.

Wilson laughed and dodged another table before zipping out the other door.

“Oh, that Wilson is _dead_!” One of the bobbies growled to his companion. “Silly little bleeder! Gettin’ drunk and disruptin’ a weddin’!” Puffing, he waved at his companion. “You go on! I’ll have to talk to these people.”

As his companions nodded and left, the officer in charge took his his hat and shuffled over to the hysterically laughing Donna. “Ma’am, I’d like to apologise for the intrusion-”

“Oooh, please don’t!” Jack piped up. “He was a sight for sore eyes.”

“He was a string-bean!” Donna interjected. “A good gust of wind’d blow him right over!”

“H-h-h-e’s p-p-p-probably very embarrassed,” Lee offered.

“I should hope so!” Wilf huffed, crossing his arms. “I hope you intend to administer proper punishment.”

The policeman blinked. “Er, yes sir, I-”

“Oh, but don’t punish him too hard!” Jack cut in. “Don’t hurt his tender little bottom.”

“Er, sir, that is, I er, will regrettably require statements from each of you, although, considering the nature of this function, I would be amenable to collecting them at a more opportune moment.”

“Oh, no, we can do it now!” Donna beamed. “Let’s see…we were standing here talking, and my grandfather was telling us he expected my brother to propose to his girlfriend quite soon-” and here she cast a seemingly innocent look at her gobsmacked brother and Rose- “when that door over there opened and this naked coat-hanger on legs ran into the hall-”

“I object! He was lithely beautiful!” Jack interjected indignantly.

Donna stared at him. “He was a walking toothpick, Jack, and it’s a bloody good thing for him it wasn’t _nippy_ in here. Now, where was I-Right! So then…”

As Donna went on to describe the scene to the poor bewildered officer, Rose felt a familiar hand slip into hers. Looking up, she smiled into a pair of soul-searing blue eyes as John whispered a single word.

“Run!”

++++++++++++++++

Two years later, at John and Rose’s own wedding, Jack stood guard near the doors to the reception hall, hoping against hope that another naked reveller would dart through. Alas, he was disappointed, but as he alternated between cooing at the newly minted husband and wife, boasting of his own role in helping their relationship to flourish, and flirting with anyone between the ages of eighteen and eighty, it didn't seem to bother him too much.

No one was surprised when the groom seized his bride’s hand late in the evening and the two ran laughing into the night without a single word.

+++++++++++++++++

Four years later, Jack was asked to leave the small gallery Rose had started curating after finishing art school because they didn’t take too kindly to patrons fondling the statues. However, much to their collective relief, the gallery owner, Ianto Jones, didn’t seem too upset.

But that’s another story.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any comments or questions, I'm at countessselena.tumblr.com/.


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